<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>and no one even cares (i wonder if they ever did) by inkstained_pages</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910399">and no one even cares (i wonder if they ever did)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstained_pages/pseuds/inkstained_pages'>inkstained_pages</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Loneliness, Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Suicidal Thoughts, WE LOVE IT, all i know is pain, i am very sorry about this, if i have to be sad so do you, no beta we die like my emotions, really sad, self projecting time, this is uh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:46:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstained_pages/pseuds/inkstained_pages</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He wishes he could say it’s unexpected, but it isn’t. No one cares about him. He wonders if they ever did. <br/>(Probably not.)</p>
<p>Or,</p>
<p>In which Tommy died and no one cared, but really, did he expect them to?</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>A look at TommyInnit and everything he has lost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>TommyInnit &amp; Loneliness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and no one even cares (i wonder if they ever did)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>whoops, look who’s self projecting. oh well. take this and cry.<br/>another crack at present tense, i really like writing in it!<br/>!! TW for suicidal thoughts and implied death !!<br/>enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s... easy. To pretend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pretend that people still care about him. That they love him. That if he died, they would miss him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, he’s died. He’s been dead. He’s been stuck in prison for days with the person who’s caused him so much pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one cares.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Did he really expect them to?)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(No.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>See, Tommy isn’t dumb. He knows they hate him. He knows they blame him for all their problems. He knows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(He wishes he didn’t.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can see it in the way that Niki’s eyes aren’t kind anymore, they’re filled with darkness and bitter vengeance. He can see it in the way that Jack’s smiles and laughs are forced now. He can see it in the way that he hasn’t talked to Phil in weeks, the man hasn’t even bothered to ask about him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can see it in the way that Tubbo never talks to him anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, Tommy isn’t dumb. People like to think he is. They like to think that he’s stupid, brash, too loud. They like to blame him for everything; it’s easier than admitting that they’ve fucked up just as much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And look, Tommy knows he’s fucked up too. He knows that he’s made mistakes, that he’s hurt people. He knows that he’s loud and annoying, that he can’t seem to regulate himself enough, that he makes stupid decision in the heat of the moment that lead to problems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But hasn’t he apologized? Hasn’t he recognized his shortcomings? Hasn’t he tried to do better? Hasn’t he done enough for them?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How many times do they want him to die for their mistakes?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now here he is, fresh out of the prison and alone. Standing on top of the cliff his house resides on and wondering if he should have just jumped anyway, all those weeks ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(He wonders if there was any point in choosing to stay alive, when no one seems to want him to be.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy can’t remember the last time he’s talked to someone. Truly talked to them. He’s been in prison for who knows how long, but before that, who even wanted to be around him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo seemed perfectly content to live in Snowchester and hang out with Ranboo all the time. Sam had even told Tommy that Tubbo and Ranboo had gotten married and adopted a kid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Tommy’s happy for them. He is. But there’s a part of him that screams and cries out for that, wishing that someone cared about him enough to promise to stay for the rest of their years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Tubbo and Tommy made that promise to each other once. The promise seems to have died along with Tommy.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there is no one here like that. There is no person in the world anymore who loves him enough for that. No one who loves him, period. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is alive, but he is alone, and he wonders if there’s really any difference between that and death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It doesn’t feel like it.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Tommy pretends. He pretends that he’s fine, that he’s normal. He walks around with his signature grin and puffed out chest, laughing his obnoxious laugh so that no one will suspect. He pretends and pretends and pretends until it physically hurts, and then he wonders if anyone would even care if he stops pretending.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(He wonders if they would care if he threw himself off this cliff right now.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Probably not.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Tommy can’t go back to the darkness. He can’t go back to that place where Schlatt is, with his snide comments and offhand remarks about the pain he’d caused. The place with Wilbur and his honey-laced words so obviously filled with explosives that Tommy feels like he’s walking in a field full of landmines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> go back there. He can’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he doesn’t throw himself off the cliff. He sits at the edge and dangles his legs below, staring down at the jump that he wishes he could take without going back to hell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(And how fucked up is that he wishes he could die, but can’t, because only more pain would await him? How fucked up that there is no escape for him anywhere, not even in death?)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an odd existence, and one that Tommy wishes he didn’t have to live. He wishes that if this is the reality he has to live in, that he could have at least one person to lean on. Just one person to keep him afloat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he doesn’t have that. Tommy’s alone. He’s alone and he has been for quite some time now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders when the people he used to know turned into the monsters they are now. He wonders when they decided that everything was his fault and not the madmen that did this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders when he stopped being their little brother and became the person they wanted to slaughter for their own crimes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sacrifice, Tommy thinks. That’s what he is. A sacrifice to their own consciences, something to ease their minds from the guilt that they would otherwise be feeling. A lamb led to the slaughter as a sacrifice to the gods, a child offered to appease the wrath of beings it had never wronged in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh to be a child again, Tommy wishes. To be happy. To be wanted. To be loved. To be cared about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Tommy died right now, no one would care. No, they would celebrate. Or maybe they would be angry that they didn’t get to do it themselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Tubbo would cry a few tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s wishful thinking. Tubbo had long ago rid himself of emotions that tied him down to Tommy, to the disappointment that Tommy is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Somehow, Tubbo had deemed Ranboo worthy of his emotions. Tommy wonders when he himself became unworthy of that.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one really deems him worthy of anything anymore. Except perhaps a painful death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there is no escape for him in death. There is no escape anywhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is simply this existence, which doesn’t really feel like an existence at all. It feels more like a dream, like he’ll wake up someday back in the old treehouse he used to share with Tubbo. That he’ll wake up and Wilbur will be there to comfort him when he falls and gets a scrape on his knee. That he’ll wake up and be happy again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That he’ll wake up and not wish for a death that would lead him somewhere peaceful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s not a dream and Tommy won’t ever wake up from this reality. He is nothing more than the shell of a child grown up too soon, a man shaped by the hands of others and then deemed unworthy of being kept around any longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s probably a bad thing that he’s used to being cast aside and left behind, but it’s happened so many times that he’s used to it by now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that’s... that’s fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(He’s not.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if i made you cry, good. suffer with me.<br/>comments and kudos appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>